


A Guardian In Need of Saving.

by LittleHeda



Category: Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon, Bishoujo Senshi Sailor Moon | Pretty Guardian Sailor Moon (Anime & Manga), Sailor Moon
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Dad Mode Tenoh Haruka, Everyone Is Gay, F/F, Haruka has PTSD, Heavy Angst, Hotaru is their child and you can never convince me otherwise, Hurt/Comfort, Michiru tries to help, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Setsuna is the mom friend, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-09-20
Packaged: 2020-09-24 05:14:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20352970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleHeda/pseuds/LittleHeda
Summary: Haruka Tenoh has never known peace. After Sailor Moon defeated Galaxia and restored Michiru and Haruka's Star Seeds, Haruka is left with a budding sense of anxiety, a lack of self-worth, and an overwhelming feeling of uselessness. She's a Sailor Guardian without a purpose, and a quiet life with Michiru isn't at all what she dreamt it would be.But when a new enemy threatens to disrupt the peace, Haruka isn't sure she's prepared to rise to the challenge. She can't focus, can't fight, and can't close her eyes without remembering the shadows that swallowed her whole when Galaxia killed her and Michiru....“I’m worried about you,” she murmured. “You’re distant.”Haruka pressed a kiss to the back of Michiru’s neck. “I know,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”





	1. Chapter One.

The winding roads of her favored route were empty today, and the city of Tokyo was sprawled along the horizon like a glistening expanse of starlight. A fierce breeze rustled the ancient birch trees hanging low above the interstate, a canopy of browning leaves that marked the changing of the season. Winter would soon be upon them, but the threat of fresh snow clinging to the frigid air was hardly a deterrent for Haruka. She would drive through sleet if it meant clearing the fog from her head.

Such a constant haze had been steadily consuming her these past month, and she could not place a finger on its exact origin. She had never known such peace, such beautiful, undulating sunlight that rose every morning at dawn. It was not plagued by the shadows of daimons or phages, by the enemies meant to harm those she loved. Haruka often still dreamt of them, of the things she’d endured in the name of the Moon and her Princess. 

She recalled Sailor Galaxia so vividly, her golden armor shining bright beneath the stars. A dismissive wave of her hand, and Haruka still dreamt of Michiru falling to her knees, her Star Seed gone and the light dimming from her eyes. It kept her awake most nights, sweating and gasping for breath, and Haruka had to remind herself that she and Michiru were safe, that the future Neo-Queen Serenity had brought them back from a realm of such endless dark.

A sigh escaped through her lips, and Haruka propped her elbow against the rolled down window of her convertible. The wind raced through her hair, tousling her short blonde locks and whipping them in front of her face. She swept it back with her fingers, her calloused thumb brushing over the bare skin of her forehead. It’d been months since she’d worn her tiara, its sparkling gem the same shade of blue as her eyes. Michiru had always told her how handsome the relic made her look, how it added a soft, gentle touch of beauty to the otherwise sharp angles of her face. 

Turning onto a lane that most would have missed unless looking for it, Haruka forced herself to sit up tall in her seat. When she and Michiru had bought this house a several weeks ago, they’d chosen not to pave the old dirt road that served as their winding driveway. They could hear the sound of tires on dirt and stone from anywhere on their small slice of property, and without the constant threat of Earth succumbing to destruction, the wind and sea no longer whispered their secrets. Haruka had needed some peace of mind in knowing when she and Michiru had visitors.

The gilded front door of a large, slightly dated manor opened onto a wrap-around porch. Michiru stood beneath the threshold as Haruka pulled her car around, parking it beneath the shade of an old weeping willow tree. She’d barely managed to haul herself from the front seat when a blur of dark hair shot from around Michiru, barreling straight for Haruka's long legs. She braced herself for the inevitable impact.

“Haruka!” Hotaru flung her arms around Haruka’s torso and squeezed. “You’ve been gone for hours. Where were you? Michiru and Setsuna were getting worried.”

She smoothed back Hotaru’s hair and smiled. “I went for a drive,” Haruka told her, gently untangling herself from the child’s crushing embrace. She reached into the back seat of her convertible and procured a plastic bag. “I picked up carry-out. I thought everyone might be hungry.”

Hotaru grinned and snatched the bag from between Haruka’s fingers. “I’ll go put this on the table,” she said. “Michiru figured you’d bring dinner home, so we’ve been waiting on you to eat.” She clutched the carry-out containers against her chest and raced for the front porch, bounding up the stairs and past Michiru. 

Michiru shook her head as Hotaru disappeared into the house, calling out for Setsuna as she went. “If you were going to be late,” she chided softly, raising an eyebrow at Haruka as she dragged herself up the steps. “You should have called.”

“I’m sorry,” Haruka said, towering over Michiru and pressing a kiss to her brow. “I didn’t intend to be gone for so long.”

Lacing their fingers between them, Michiru tucked herself beneath Haruka’s chin. She closed her eyes and breathed in deep, sighing contentedly at the familiar scent of Haruka’s favored cologne. “Did your drive help to clear your head?”

“No,” Haruka admitted. There was no sense in lying to her. “Maybe tomorrow I’ll go to the track. Find some amateur to race. Kick their ass.”

Michiru hummed an acknowledgement. “Or,” she said. “Setsuna can watch Hotaru, and you and I can escape for a couple of hours. We’ve been neglecting our favorite places in the Juban district.”

“There’s that restaurant near the old Mugen Academy,” Haruka mused. “The one with the fancy dinnerware you enjoy so much. I could call and make us a dinner reservation.” She nuzzled her face into Michiru’s dark green hair, her senses assaulted by the fragrant shampoo she washed it with. “It’s been too long since I’ve treated you to a night on the town.”

“We’ve had more important things to worry about,” Michiru reminded her. Haruka’s eyes fluttered. “But now that the tides have grown silent, we’re free of our duties as Guardians. The world is ours for the taking.” She gently poked Haruka in the chest. “I have a violin recital coming up, and you should be training for the next racing season. Spring isn’t too far off, you know.” 

Haruka nodded in a way she prayed was not dismissive. Racing was the furthest thing from her mind. “We should head inside,” she suggested. “Before dinner gets cold. Or before Hotaru and Setsuna devour it.” 

The soft, melodic laugh that escaped from Michiru was Haruka’s favorite sound. She strived to hear it every day, to make Michiru happy enough to laugh, but lately she’d been slacking in her duties. 

“If there was sushi in any of those carry-out containers,” Michiru began, taking Haruka’s hand and guiding her into the house. They kicked off their shoes in the foyer, a sparkling chandelier twinkling above and scattering rays of light across the walls. “I doubt there’s any left. It’s Hotaru’s favorite.” 

A quiet chuckle rasped out of her. “Let’s hope Setsuna managed to save some for the rest of us, then. I’m famished.”

Michiru rose onto her toes and pressed a playful, teasing kiss to tip of Haruka’s nose. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have stayed out so long, then. Though I do hope your drive offered you some peace of mind. I hate seeing you so restless.” 

“I hate _being_ so restless,” Haruka countered. She raked a hand through her hair. A quiet life with Michiru was all she’d ever wanted, but these days, it seemed as if such a life wasn’t meant for her. “Once the racing season starts back up, I’ll be better. I promise.” 

A flicker of concern flashed in Michiru’s eyes. Her lips parted to speak, but Hotaru came skidding into the foyer, her socks slipping over the polished marble floor. “Hurry up!” she said, wedging herself between Haruka and Michiru, pushing them apart as she grabbed each of their hands. “Setsuna and I are hungry, and she won’t let me eat without the two of you sitting at the table.” 

Haruka ruffled her hair and forced a smile onto her face. “Apologies, little one.” She avoided Michiru’s gaze as Hotaru led them into the ornately decorated dining room. Sprawled across one end of the table were the carry-out containers full of steaming food that Haruka had brought home for dinner. On the other end, paint and canvases and dripping brushes stained the oak wood. She chuckled. “I see you’ve been busy today.” 

Hotaru grinned up at her despite Setsuna shaking her head, a lingering mixture of fond exasperation etched into the lines of her face. Haruka made a note to ask her about the experience later, and whether or not more paint had been spilled than what was left on the table. “Michiru was teaching me how to paint a galaxy.” 

“A galaxy, huh?” Haruka sank into a nearby chair. “Any success?” 

“We’ve got quite the little artist on our hands,” Michiru said, flipping through the canvases. Haruka could tell which ones she’d painted, and which ones Hotaru had painted black and splattered white paint on. A gentle smile tugged at the corners of Michiru’s mouth as she pulled a canvas from the bottom of the stack. “She painted this one just for your.”

Michiru handed the canvas to Haruka, who blinked at the messy array of multicolored paint. A bluish circle sat near the center of the canvas, white lines circling what Haruka vaguely recognized to be—

“It’s Uranus!” Hotaru said excitedly. She bounced on the heels of her feet. “I painted Neptune and Pluto for Michiru and Setsuna, too. Do you like it?”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Of course I do,” Haruka said, her voice a deeper rasp than usual. Hotaru didn’t seem to notice, but she felt Michiru studying her face. “I’ll hang it in my office after dinner.” She leaned over to press a kiss to Hotaru’s temple, and she tried to shake away the coil of dread sitting like a stone in her chest. She did not deserve such a lovely gift as this.

But Hotaru smiled happily, satisfied with Haruka’s praise, and bounded around to sit at the head of the table. The ends of her chair scraping over the floor were like nails on a chalkboard to Haruka’s ears. She winced. Michiru, as if she’d taken notice, was far more careful as she pulled out her own chair and sat to Haruka’s left. Setsuna seemed to the do the same, taking up a seat across from them at the table. 

Dinner passed by in a blur, and Haruka only hummed and nodded when appropriate. She barely touched her food, and Michiru drew attention to her lack of an appetite by occasionally stealing uneaten shrimp from her plate. Every theft was accompanied by a pointed stare, but Haruka only responded by patting Michiru’s knee beneath the table. She knew they would discuss this later.

And so when she and Michiru bid Setsuna and Hotaru goodnight, Haruka climbed into bed and closed her eyes while Michiru freshened up in the bathroom. She’d lit a candle and left it burning on her nightstand, the wax smelling of a soft lavender that helped lull Haruka to sleep. It’s dancing flames chased away the shadows lurking near the edges of the bed, and Michiru seemed to always know better than to snuff out the fire before crawling beneath the covers.

Tonight was no different than the rest, though Haruka heard Michiru sigh softly just before rolling into bed. She flipped off the lamp on her own nightstand, and Haruka bit her lip as Michiru laid with her back to her. Normally, they would stay up and talk, stealing kisses between the natural lulls in conversation. 

Haruka moved closer, wrapping her arms around Michiru’s body and pulling her back into her chest. She laid her head against the swell of muscle in Haruka’s upper arm, her index finger absently tracing shapes against the open palm of her hand. “I’m worried about you,” she murmured. “You’re distant.”

Haruka pressed a kiss to the back of Michiru’s neck. “I know,” she breathed. “I’m sorry.”


	2. Chapter Two.

Shadows gripped her in a vice, curling their spindly fingers around Haruka’s neck and choking her. She could not breathe, could not kick or thrash or fight them off and turn on her bedside lamp. The candle she’d left burning on her nightstand had gone out, wisps of smoke curling into the air and joining the shadows laying claim to her. Haruka had escaped them once before, when Usagi Tsukino had brought her back from death and restored her Star Seed, but she could not escape them now. 

Her fingers twitched helplessly at her sides, twisting into the satin sheets beneath her. Her transformation rod was hidden beneath her pillow, and if she could reach it, she could banish the monsters that were flitting towards Michiru’s side of the bed. But Haruka could not move, her limbs trapped in an unforgiving stasis, as if the shadows were pinning her to the mattress. 

With her eyes opened wide, Haruka watched as a tendril of midnight smoke toyed with Michiru’s hair. She wanted to tear it to shreds, to claw at it with her fingernails for touching Michiru when Haruka was the one they were after. She tasted salt on her tongue, perhaps a tinge of iron from where she’d bitten the inside of her cheek. Sweat was beading at her brow, dampening her hair and beginning to drip into her eyes. 

Haruka was useless; there was nothing she could do to defend Michiru from the monster lurking at her side. Its piercing eyes shone bright in their bedroom, like a pair of twin rubies had been painted the color of blood and pressed into a veil of darkness. Haruka watched as it beckoned her with talon-tipped fingers, as it crept closer to Michiru and trailed a hand wreathed in shadows up her arm.

_No_, she thought despairingly. A scream was on the tip of her tongue, a plea for Michiru to wake and run from the room. This was Haruka’s nightmare, her deepest fears come to light, and Michiru did not need to be involved. _Leave her alone_. 

A strangled grunt was all that escaped through her teeth, but it was enough to rouse Michiru from her sleep. Yawning into her open palm, she rolled onto her side and blinked. “Haruka?” Her voice was a soft rasp, a sound that Haruka clung to. “Are you all right?” 

She gasped, her chest suddenly expanding as if the weight of the world had been removed from it. Haruka bolted upright in bed, her hands trembling as she splayed her fingers wide across her throat, the vice there gone and allowing air into her lungs. Michiru fiddled with the lamp on her nightstand, and a dull yellow light spread like a dome across the room.

“I’m sorry,” Haruka wheezed, her shoulders caving in around her. She swept her hand through her hair, the damp strands clinging to her neck and forehead. “I shouldn’t have woken you.” 

“From the looks of it, you should have woken me sooner.” Michiru placed a gentle hand on Haruka’s shoulder. She did not shy from the sweat coating her skin, but instead frowned at the slight tremors that wracked Haruka’s body. “Was it a nightmare?” 

“Yes,” Haruka breathed. A nightmare it was, indeed. “I’m sorry.” 

Michiru’s brow furrowed. “Don’t apologize.” She traced small, soothing shapes against Haruka’s skin with her thumb, the pad of her finger calloused from the strings of her violin. “It must have been some dream to have shaken you like this. Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” Haruka answered. Her eyes fluttered as she struggled to steady her breathing. “I don’t remember most of it, anyway. Just the feeling of dread it left behind.”

It was only a half-lie, she told herself. Michiru didn’t need to know about the monsters that had invaded their bedroom, nor the paralyzing fear that had pinned Haruka to the bed. She did not need to know about the shadows or the glowing red eyes, nor the talons that’d been traced up her arm. Michiru was intuitive enough to know that Haruka’s resolve had been shaken, and that would have to be enough for her. 

“Wait here.” 

Michiru was rolling out of bed before Haruka could protest. She disappeared into their bedroom’s master bath, blinding fluorescent light flooding through the open doorway and spilling across the carpeted floor. The faucet turned on for just a moment, and then Michiru was returning to bed with a glass of water. She pressed it into Haruka’s hands. “Drink,” she commanded, a tone she so rarely wielded. 

A sigh escaped her, but Haruka did as she was told. The water was luke-warm and tasted slightly of salt, but she smiled at Michiru over the rim of her glass nonetheless. “Thank you.” She turned and set it on her nightstand. “I’m sorry for waking you.” 

“Nonsense.” Michiru brushed Haruka’s hair away from her face, tucking the blonde strands back behind her ear. “Are you feeling all right? You’re still flushed.” 

Haruka reached for Michiru’s hand before she could pull away, pressing it against the side of her face.“I feel fine,” she said, kissing the inside of her wrist. “It’s late. We should probably go back to sleep.” 

Michiru hummed a sound of acknowledgement. “We could,” she mused, stroking her thumb across Haruka’s cheek. Something in her dark eyes shifted, and Haruka dropped her gaze to Michiru’s lips as she continued, “But you don’t look so tired.” 

“Don’t I?” Haruka pressed her brow against Michiru’s, leaning in close until their breath mingled between them. “I suppose I could stay up for a while longer.” 

A giggle rasped out of her, and Michiru pressed her lips against Haruka’s. The tension drained from her shoulders, settling somewhere deep in Haruka’s bones where she could leave it to fester until later. Her hands slid to Michiru’s waist, and Michiru gripped the sides of her face, her fingers threading carefully through Haruka’s hair. She leaned against the headboard behind her, Michiru’s weight pressing into her front as she pulled her close and held her. 

Never one to fumble, Michiru frowned against Haruka’s lips as she reached for the hem of her shirt. She slid the material up her torso, her fingers brushing against Haruka’s pale skin, and found a second layer of clothing banded tightly around her chest. “You aren’t supposed to wear your binder to bed,” Michiru chided. She lifted Haruka’s shirt up and over her head. “It’s no wonder you weren't sleeping well tonight.” 

“I forgot I was wearing it,” Haruka admitted. “It’s older, so it’s not so tight.” 

Michiru clicked her tongue and motioned for Haruka to sit up. She fiddled with the metal clasps hooked up the front of the binder, undoing them one by one until Haruka was free from its confinement. “There.” 

Breathing deep, Haruka slipped her arms out of the garment and tossed it aside. “Thank you,” she said with a smile, sinking back into the headboard. With infinitely less grace than the elegance harbored by Michiru, Haruka set to work on the buttons of her pajama blouse. Her fingernails skimmed purposely over her collarbone. “And you talk about my binder being confining.” 

“I’d say this was far more comfortable,” Michiru commented “But I don’t suppose that’s true. Not for you, at least.” 

A grateful smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Haruka felt the most confident when wearing her binder, and she could not be more thankful that Michiru was entirely unbothered by it. “I suppose you might be right.” 

Michiru was slipping the blouse from her shoulders when she suddenly gasped, garnering Haruka’s full attention. “What is it?” she asked, panic stiffening her spine. “What’s wrong?”

She rubbed aggressively at her temples, the bridge of her nose crinkling with discontent. “My mirror,” Michiru said hoarsely. “I need my mirror. I see—I see _something_.” She squeezed her eyes shut as if doing so would offer her some sense of clarity. “The sea, Haruka. It’s restless. It’s_ raging_. I need my mirror.” 

Haruka felt it, then. In the air as it filled her lungs, a deep unrest that spoke of death and darkness. She shuddered as the wind spilled its secrets, as if a lid had been lifted from a jar containing them all inside. A fierce breeze whipped through Haruka’s hair, a warning from the planet that protected her. 

“I feel it, too,” she said. Haruka’s chest grew hollow. She carefully removed Michiru from her lap, setting her aside only to crawl over her knees and reach into Michiru’s nightstand. Rifling through her various belongings, Haruka procured her Deep Aqua Mirror, its golden frame glinting in the moonlight streaming through their bedroom window. “Here,” she said, thrusting it into Michiru’s hands. “Tell me what you see.”

“Awful things,” Michiru told her immediately. “Such awful things are approaching the edge of our solar system.” She held her mirror close, twisting it this way and that to observe whatever it showed her. “We’re in danger, Haruka. We’ve faced nothing like this before.”

Dread crept into her veins, eddying between her bones like the rushing rapids of a river. “It seems as if our peace has been short lived.”


	3. Chapter Three.

It’d been so many months since Haruka had felt the genuine need to transform, her inner Guardian having gone dormant somewhere deep inside of her. But Sailor Uranus was beginning to awaken, and she was calling out to Haruka now, singing to the wind and begging to be unleashed into this world. She prowled beneath Haruka’s skin, urging her to reach for the transformation rod tucked beneath the pillow behind her. It took all of Haruka’s strength to silence her, to force her back down into submission. She did not need Uranus now. Not yet.

Michiru paced along the foot of their bed, her Deep Aqua Mirror gripped tightly between her trembling fingers. Haruka had never seen her so shaken. “It’s so dark,” Michiru murmured, tilting the ancient relic as if doing so would show her their newest enemy from a different angle. “One by one across this universe, stars are winking from existence. It’s like someone is extinguishing their light.” She tapped her fingers against the mirror. “How is that possible? We defeated Galaxia and vanquished Chaos from her body.”

Haruka sat stiffly against the intricately carved headboard of their bed. “I don’t know,” she said, her tone bridled with frustration. “The only other being with the power to destroy planets is Sailor Saturn, and her re-birth has brought her onto our side.” Haruka raked her fingers though her hair, the tousled strands still damp with sweat. “Should we wake Setsuna?”

“No need.” The eldest Sailor Guardian appeared in their doorway, her dark eyes flickering with such unusual distress. “I sense a disturbance in the fabric of space and time. My inner Guardian is wary.” Setsuna crossed her arms, her brow furrowing as she leaned against Michiru and Haruka’s threshold. “Should we consult with Sailor Moon and the others?”

Haruka shook her head. “It’s too soon to involve them,” she said. Michiru cast her a momentary glance, not daring to look away from her mirror for too long, but Haruka read the exasperation in her eyes. “We don’t know what threat this new enemy poses, or if they’re indeed a new enemy.” She reached beneath her pillow and withdrew her transformation rod. The sapphire metal was cold against her clammy skin, and Haruka traced her thumb over the curved rings circling Uranus. “Let them enjoy their peace a little longer.”

_Let _us_ enjoy our peace a little longer_, she did not say, though Haruka didn’t suppose she had ever truly found it for herself. Her world was calm despite her shadows and nightmares, but deep inside she was restless, yearning to once again find a purpose. Perhaps this new enemy would grant her that.

A head of dark hair appeared from behind Setsuna, garnering the attention of all three Sailor Guardians. “I had a bad dream,” Hotaru murmured. She stumbled into Haruka and Michiru’s bedroom, rubbing at her eyes and wiping away the tears still hanging heavily from her lashes. “It was so dark outside. The sun was gone, and the stars. Even the moon.”

Hotaru hoisted herself up onto the bed, crawling over the rumbled silk sheets until she was sitting in Haruka’s lap. “I was so scared, Daddy Haruka. I couldn’t find you or Mommy Michiru or Mommy Setsuna.” Despite having wiped them all away, a fresh set of tears began to well in Hotaru’s violet eyes. “I was all alone in the dark. Even Sailor Saturn wasn’t with me.”

Something cracked in Haruka’s chest, a fracture so deep that she felt it resonate in her bones. She knew what it was like to find herself alone in the dark. “It’s all right, little one.” Haruka scooped her up into her arms, cradling Hotaru against her chest like she were nothing more than an infant. “You’ll never be alone. Michiru, Setsuna, and I won’t allow for that.”

“Do you promise?” Hotaru clutched at the fabric of Haruka’s old racing shirt; she was glad she’d thought to dress herself when Michiru had taken to pacing their bedroom. “I love you all so much, Daddy Haruka. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Michiru joined them on the bed. Her delicate face was poised with a carefully crafted aloofness, a ruse for Hotaru’s sake, but Haruka felt the uncertainty wafting off of her. “Noting will happen to us,” Michiru vowed. She offered Hotaru a soft, tender smile, one that made her sniffle and wipe once more at her eyes. “Nothing will happen to you, either. You’re safe here with us.”

To Haruka’s surprise, Setsuna shuffled further into the room. It was not like her to venture so far beyond the threshold. “Will you tell us what you dreamt about?” she asked Hotaru, her quiet voice its usual haunting timbre. “It appears we all had bad dreams tonight. I would like to hear about yours.”

Hotaru squirmed nervously in Haruka’s embrace. “I was here,” she said. “All alone. I searched every room for the three of you, but you were gone.” Hotaru sniffled, prompting Michiru to take her hand and gently squeeze her fingers. “When I looked outside to see if you might be on the front porch, there was no light. The sun was gone, and the stars and the moon. I’ve never seen such darkness before.”

She shuddered, and Haruka held her tightly against her chest. “It’s all right,” she murmured. “It was just a dream. That darkness can’t reach you here.”

It was a lie, she wanted to say, to confide in her family who meant so very much to her. The darkness had already found them—or at the very least, had found Haruka—and it was tormenting her at every turn. She wondered if it were the remnants of Chaos, if an extra sliver had wormed its way into her mind for all she’d done all those months ago. As Sailor Uranus, she and Neptune had slaughtered Pluto and Saturn, and Haruka had never forgiven herself.

“Haruka’s right,” Michiru agreed. She tucked a strand of Hotaru’s black hair back behind her ear. “It was all just a dream. Did you look outside and see the stars?”

The young Guardian nodded. “I can see Orion from my bedroom window.”

Haruka offered her a thin-lipped smile that did not reach her eyes. “It’s late,” she said. “And you have school tomorrow. See if Setsuna can get you back to bed.” She pressed a kiss to Hotaru’s temple, releasing her from the circle of her arms. “Michiru and I will see you in the morning.”

After kissing both Michiru and Haruka’s cheeks, Hotaru slid off the bed and took Setsuna’s hand. The wary Guardian of space and time led the girl from the room, and Haruka slumped back against the headboard. Michiru curled up beside her, her Deep Aqua Mirror still gripped tightly between her fingers.

“I believe her dream was a warning,” she said, nuzzling into Haruka’s shoulder. “Sailor Saturn only awakens in times of discontent. Perhaps she’s sensed something troubling enough to warn Hotaru in her sleep.”

“Perhaps,” Haruka admonished. She glared at the beamed ceiling above, tracking the shadows that furled around the edges of the room. “I feel Uranus crawling beneath my skin, like she’s wanting me to let her out. She’s far more restless than even I am.”

A deep, long-suffering sigh escaped through Michiru’s lips. “The sea calls to Neptune,” she murmured. “She’s been dormant for so long that I was beginning to forget what it felt like to be destined for battle.” Michiru clenched her jaw, the tendons in her slender neck growing taught with tension. “It was foolish of me to believe that this world would ever know peace.”

Haruka wrapped her arms around Michiru’s waist and pulled her close. The Guardian of the Sea leaned into the comfort of her chest, burying her face into Haruka’s muscled shoulder. “Whatever the threat,” Haruka vowed, threading her fingers through Michiru’s aqua-colored hair. “We face it together.”

Michiru nodded solemnly. “Until the very end,” she agreed, the resignation in her tone wringing a shudder out of Haruka. So willing she was to die in the name of peace, to forfeit the life that she and Haruka had built together. “As it was always meant to be.”


	4. Chapter Four.

Long before their final battle with Galaxia, going for a run was Haruka’s preferred method of clearing her mind. If the race track was closed or her car was in the shop for repairs, she’d slip into her gym clothes and jog to the park in the Juuban district. She’d follow its winding trails until her legs were numb, pacing around visitors admiring the willows and wildflowers. She would run until her worries were behind her, stamped into the ground by the soles of her battered running shoes.

But shortly _after_ their final battle with Galaxia, Haruka, Michiru, and Setsuna had decided that the crowded, bustling city was not where they wanted to raise Hotaru. She attended school in the Juuban district, frequently crossing paths with Chibiusa when she returned to this time period to visit, but Haruka drove her there every morning before heading for the race track.

Often, she contemplated stopping by the park, the one place on Earth where even Michiru knew better than to follow her. But Haruka never had the time, and so she’d settled for buying a treadmill that she kept outside in the garage. It wasn’t ideal on days like today when she missed feeling the wind in her hair, but it would do. She needed to run until her legs gave out, until her only concern was catching her breath before her heart stalled. Anything less than that was unacceptable.

As always, she started off easy, walking briskly on the treadmill’s slowest speed. She worked her way up to its fastest, jabbing at the buttons on the console until her legs began to ache and her lungs started to seize in her chest. Haruka gritted her teeth and kept going, sweat beginning to bead along her hairline.

The treadmill beeped at her when the twenty minutes she’d set on the timer passed, but Haruka simply added more time. She was not ready to go inside, to lie to her family and pretend that everything was fine. Michiru had been keeping a close eye on her Deep Aqua Mirror, and both Setsuna and Hotaru were still wary. But the three of them together had fallen back into their routines, whereas Haruka had yet to escape from the monsters still haunting her every night; from the shadows that lingered in the corners of her eyes and fluttered along the ceiling in every room.

She pushed herself harder, her feet thudding against the treadmill until every bone in her body ached. It wasn’t enough—this stupid machine was not enough for Haruka to run from her problems. They chased her on a never ending track, biting at her heels and reminding her they held Haruka prisoner. She would never escape if the darkness had anything to say about it.

Over the sound of her gasping breaths and the rush of her pulse in her ears, Haruka didn’t hear the garage door open, nor the click of expensive heels on the oily cement floor. Michiru appeared at her side, a frown tugging at her glossed lips as she leaned over the bars of the treadmill. She slowed its speed until Haruka was forced into a walk.

“You’ve been out here for two hours,” Michiru said, reaching for Haruka’s water bottle on a nearby work table. Her frown only deepened when she realized it was empty. “Have you been running all this time?”

Haruka’s legs were like those of a newborn fawn, trembling and unsteady as she stepped off the treadmill. “Not the _whole_ time,” she lied, collapsing onto a stack of old tires. “I worked on my car for a while.”

Michiru stared pointedly at Haruka’s hands, noting the lack of grease. “I see.”

“Is everything all right?” Haruka swept the back of her arm across her forehead, wiping away the sweat that lingered there. She would need to shower before bed. “You don’t usually come out into the garage.”

“It’s getting late,” Michiru informed her. “You missed dinner.”

Haruka glanced at the small window pressed into the garage’s steel wall. Indeed, the sky beyond was a midnight blue as the sun began to dip below the horizon. “I’m sorry,” Haruka murmured, any icy chill prickling along her skin. “I didn’t realize.”

“So I assumed.” Michiru held out her hand and offered Haruka a tentative smile. “Come inside with me?”

Haruka rose to her feet and did not hesitate to reach for Michiru’s fingers. “Of course.”

Her legs still shook as Michiru led her from the garage, her feet dragging over the gravel driveway. If Michiru noticed her sluggishness—and Haruka was certain she had—she did not speak of it, simply wrapped her arm around Haruka’s waist and held her steady. She pressed a kiss to Michiru’s temple, a silent thanks that she knew conveyed her gratitude. Michiru squeezed her hip in return.

“There’s a plate for you in the microwave, if you’re hungry.” Michiru’s heels clicked up the front porch steps. “Hotaru is getting ready for bed, if you’d like to stay goodnight to her. She says you were quiet on the drive home from school, and she’s worried you’re upset with her.”

“I’m not upset with her.” Haruka frowned. “I didn’t mean to make her feel otherwise.”

“Perhaps you should tell her that.” Michiru slipped out of her heels once inside the house. Haruka did the same, kicking her battered running shoes against the wall so they weren’t lying in the middle of the foyer. “I’ll heat up dinner if you want to go speak with her?”

Nodding, Haruka rolled her shoulders and rose to her tallest height. Michiru might have realized that Haruka’s resolve was still shaken, but Hotaru had not, and thus she wouldn’t let the child see her tremble. “I won’t be long,” she told Michiru. “I may have been quiet, but I was listening. Hotaru has an exam tomorrow morning. She needs her rest.”

Michiru smiled and kissed Haruka’s cheek. “I’ll be waiting.”

Thudding up the stairs, Haruka was true to her word and made quick work of telling Hotaru goodnight. She assured her that she was not upset with her, and after tucking her snuggly into bed, Haruka stopped by Setsuna’s room and thanked her for tending to Hotaru that night. The Guardian reborn as a physics student merely waved her away, citing the need to finish a research paper. Haruka chuckled and left her alone.

When she returned to the dining room, Michiru was setting a plate of steaming food at the head of the table, as well as a tall glass of water. She smiled at Haruka’s return. “I trust you’ve made amends?”

“She’s tucked into bed and ready for her math exam in the morning.” Haruka slid into a chair and reached for the cup of water, sipping slowly from the rim. Ice clinked in the glass. “Setsuna is working on a research paper and would prefer to be left undisturbed.”

Michiru laughed as she took a seat to Haruka’s left. “She’s nearing the end of her program,” Michiru reminded her, plucking a piece of sushi from Haruka’s plate. “I suspect there will be many days she’d prefer we leave her locked in her room.”

“Tell that to the invaders on the other end of the solar system.” Haruka pushed rice around with her fork. “I doubt they’ll care that Sailor Pluto is otherwise preoccupied with her studies.”

A sigh escaped from Michiru. “Please,” she lamented. “No discussing enemies at the dinner table. I’ve barely had an appetite since we sensed their presence last week.”

Haruka knew the feeling, but she shoveled a piece of chicken into her mouth anyway. “Sorry.”

“It’s like they’re taunting us,” Michiru continued. Haruka took another sip of water. “I see them lurking along the outskirts of my Mirror, just outside my reach. It’s like they know I can see them, and they’re teasing me.”

“Have you seen what they look like?”

Michiru shook her head, her aqua hair swaying in its ponytail. “Just glimpses,” she said. “A hand, sometimes a face wreathed in shadows. I’ve seen eyes the color of blood.”

Haruka’s fork clattered to the table, her dinner forgotten. _Eyes the color of blood_. She knew those eyes, had seen them nearly every night since Sailor Moon had brought her back from death. Haruka’s heart stalled, and her lungs seized in her chest, like they did when she’d been sprinting on the treadmill.

She pushed herself away from the table, her chair scraping noisily over the polished marble floor. This room was too small, and the walls were closing in on her too quickly. She needed to go, to get out, to breathe. _Eyes the color of blood_. The monsters that plagued her were taunting Michiru in her mirror, threatening Earth from afar, and Haruka was the one they were after.

Michiru straightened her spine at Haruka’s abrupt rising. “Haruka,” she murmured, reaching out her hand and placing it on Haruka’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

She stumbled back from the table, from beneath the weight of Michiru’s slender hand. “I need to get out,” Haruka rasped. The shadows were choking off her air, writhing around her neck and tightening beneath her jaw like a noose. “I need _out_.”

“All right,” Michiru said, holding out her hands as if preparing herself to fend Haruka off. “Tell me what you need. Should we go outside?”

Haruka shook her head. “I need to go for a drive.”

Michiru scrambled around the table to stand in front of her, blocking Haruka’s exit from the dining room. “Tell me where you need to go, then,” she revised. Haruka had never heard her so desperate. “You aren’t driving like this.”

“Away,” Haruka told her. “I need to go away.”

Michiru took her hand and squeezed Haruka’s fingers. “All right,” she said, and it’d been so long since Haruka had seen the Michiru’s infinite composure crack. “Away it is.”


End file.
